


The Thing About Love

by PrioritiesSorted



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Love, So much angst, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:03:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrioritiesSorted/pseuds/PrioritiesSorted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about love is that it makes you feel invincible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thing About Love

**Author's Note:**

> I just had a lot of feelings one night and this fell out. 
> 
> I am so sorry.

The thing about love is that it makes you feel invincible.

A young man thinks he can leave all weapons behind and face off against an unbeatable foe simply with the force of it.

He crumples to the floor.

Brothers laugh at long-abandoned jokes, all past enmity forgotten in the face of that ringing, joyful laughter that penetrates the clashing, cracking sounds of a battle fought with child soldiers.

For one, that laugh will never leave his face.

A new mother leaves her child to go to the front, unable to face the ‘what if’s that tumble through her reeling mind as she thinks of her husband fighting desperately for the world their son deserves.

What if he needs her?

What if she could save him?

What if she had stayed? The question hangs in the air between hands splayed on cold stone, not quite touching.

The thing about love is that it makes you feel invincible.

A mother’s war-cry is the most terrifying of all, and those who do not mark it are bound to take it to their graves.

She who has killed her own family never stood a chance.

A mother’s pleas are rarely simple, carrying a threat that those with wisdom recognise and mark. To come between a mother and her child is folly that only those insane or drunk (on power or another narcotic) would ever attempt.

Her death was only the beginning of her victory.

Marked as equal, he holds a power that this Dark Lord knows not. He holds it in his very blood, his veins awash with it, it sings through his skin. Power, they say, corrupts, but not this. Because this child, this boy on the brink of manhood who has never known freedom, he is glorious with it; the last, best gift of the mother he never knew, of the fathers who risked all for him.

‘Lord’ is not a title that befits a corpse created by its own ignorance.

Nor is it a title claimed by the boy made wise with suffering.

The thing about love is that it makes you invincible.


End file.
